


Deal Breaker

by mightbeanasshole



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Dubious food choices, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse uncovers Saul’s most objectionable secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deal Breaker

 

_> >JESSE: we need 2 talk_

There is no identity, no existence for Saul Goodman in which those four simple words don’t throw him into a complete panicking tailspin.  There are, in fact, no four words he can think of in the English language that he is _less_ equipped to deal with.

“The money is gone.” “Say your last words.” “You’re going to jail.”

He could take them all in stride with a patented Saul Goodman smile.

(OK – _maybe_ “You are the father,” would trip up his polished coolness, but even then, that sort of news would probably be prefaced with the dreaded “We need to talk.”)

Saul pushes away from the desk, going still and staring at the text from Jesse like his phone’s morphed into a cobra.

_Think, Goodman. What the fuck did you do?_

He re-traces his steps through the morning. He’d been roused from a heavy sleep by Jesse – who doubled as a human alarm clock these days – a few lingering touches, an insistent mouth following the trail of fingertips until Saul had found himself shaking off sleep and muttering praise against his own mattress. He’d gotten up after that, accused Jesse of eating him out and getting him off just so the kid could have the bed to himself. Showered and dressed, he’d found Jesse snoozing in the sunlight, told him to help himself to whatever he found in the fridge, and reminded him to lock up before heading into the office.  

That was, what, 90 minutes ago?

He can’t think of anything in his browser history that Jesse would even bat an eye at, and a mental inventory of the stuff buried in his closets yields no surprises. Hell, for someone with so many secrets, Saul is an _impressively_ open book with the kid.

Which only makes him more horrified. What the hell could Jesse want to _talk_ about at half past nine on a goddamned weekday?

Saul grits his teeth. He’s due in court in less than an hour and there’s no time for anxiety this morning. He grasps the phone warily, steels himself, and calls Jesse.

—

Jesse is sitting on the balcony, surveying the nice view as he chain smokes.

The horrible evidence is inside, left in the cardboard box it had come in. Jesse couldn’t even bring himself to throw it away, and he’d retreated out of the townhouse. He bites his lip hard when his phone comes to life.

“Saul…” he says, by way of hello.

“Listen – whatever he told you, _he_ was the one who came onto me,” Saul says quickly.

“ _What?_ ”

Saul sniffs hard into the phone and Jesse can almost picture him frowning.

“Right, kidding,” Saul says. “What’s on your mind?”

“ _Anchovies_ , Saul?”

“Uhh, flavorful and a good source of essential fatty acids,” he says. “Can’t be too careful about heart health – gotta consider the ol’ ticker these days. What else do you need to know?”

“Anchovies. _Saul._ ”

“Anchovies, Jesse,” Saul says, sounding like he’s starting to get annoyed – and _fuck that_ , Jesse thinks. _He’s_ the only one who has the right to be annoyed here.

“I accidentally _ate one_ ,” Jesse says.

“And you lived to tell the tale? Incredible.”

“I cannot believe you right now, dude!”

“I’m not – I'm… are… what are we talking about?”

“I found leftovers from a choice-looking pizza in your fridge and it has _anchovies_ on it,” Jesse says. “That _is_ your pizza right? I’m tryin’ to give you the benefit of the doubt here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Saul says without a hint of remorse. “I stopped by Carmine’s Pies after work on… I guess it was Wednesday?”

“Oh my God. It’s like… I don’t even know you, right now.”

“This is about anchovies?”

“Yes! I let you _kiss me_! I’m like… I’m tainted, man.”

“Did you or did you not put your tongue in my ass two hours ago?” Saul asks. “Was that just a particularly vivid dream I had?”

“Whoa dude, this is _not_ the same. Anchovies are _way worse_. I brushed my teeth, like, five times already.”

“I think – and please, I say this with love, I say it with understanding – but I _think_ you might be overreacting. Just a smidgen. A skosh.”

“You’re not even denying it!” Jesse says. “They have little _hairs_ and _bones!_ That is not a pizza topping – that's… that’s a nightmare dude.”

“I think you’ll survive.”

“This is serious, Saul. Anchovies are a deal-breaker.”

“You used to smoke meth!”

“ _And_?”

“OK, alright, let’s slow it down,” Saul says, and Jesse can tell that he’s ordering the pieces of an argument in his mind. “You drink whatever you want straight from the bottle out of _my_ refrigerator, you _roll_ your clean laundry instead of folding it, you smoke in bed, _and_ you eat non-Easter marshmallow Peeps – and my anchovies are a deal breaker?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, sucking a breath through his teeth.

“Not to _mention_ said anchovies were acquired and consumed while you were nowhere in sight,” Saul says, like he’s making some sort of great point. “It’s not like I put a gun to your temple and force-fed you. Maybe a little caution before you go diving into my leftovers would be prudent.”

“No way,” Jesse says. “You’re not… this isn’t my fault. Don’t act like this is my fault. You paid real American dollars for a pizza and you _asked them_ to put _creepy, hairy fish_ on top of it. You can’t pin this on me.”

There’s some movement in the background on the other end of the line and the sound of Saul’s dumb Cadillac doors clicking open.

“Are you… are you driving right now?” Jesse asks, outraged. “I can’t believe you. This is serious.”

“This is _not_ serious,” Saul says. “Missing a court date for a client is serious.”

“Great, well, I hope you have some nice memories of our time together,” Jesse says, stubbing out his cigarette. “If you want any of the stuff you left at my place, it’ll be out on the porch.”

“Jesse –”

“Saul!”

“Kid –”

“ _Anchovies!_ ”

“OK, _okay,_ listen to me. How do I make this right?”

“You could apologize, for starters.”

“You’re kidding.”

Jesse just sits there, letting his silence communicate just how _not kidding_ he is right now. Saul heaves a world-weary sigh.

“Point taken. Right. Very serious. Let’s see… uh, I, Saul Goodman, of reasonably sound body and mind do hereby formally apologize to one Jesse Pinkman for my blatant disregard of food preferences that I was, apparently, supposed to psychically parse out of the ether.”

“Be serious.”

“I am dead serious!”

“You’re not even sorry,” Jesse says. “I’m horrified.”

Saul lets loose a rolling grumble into the phone.

“You want me hooked to a polygraph? I could probably call in a few favors,” he says. “Listen – I’m sorry you ate the… what did you call it? The creepy, hairy fish. I’m sorry, ok? I could not be sorrier. I’m appealing to your endless good nature, here. I’m groveling at your feet. I’m falling on my sword. I admit it: I’m lower than low. I loved anchovies on pizza but you’ve shown me the light, Jesse, and I realize the error of my ways. I hope that in your infinite wisdom and patience, you’ll find it in yourself to forgive this humble sinner, but I understand that I must rebuild your trust – preferably tonight at 8, in a booth at Carmine’s, where I’ll foot the bill for whatever ridiculous toppings you’d prefer.”

There’s a long pause. Jesse lets him twist in the wind.

“ _Seriously?_ You’re still mad?”

“And you won’t rag on me for getting a side of ranch with pizza.”

“ _Ranch?_ ”

“Saul! Say it.”

“And I won’t rag on you for getting… a side of _ranch_ with pizza,” he says. He sighs hard after the statement. “You really test the limits to my love, kid.”

“Yeah, you too, you fish-licking freak,” Jesse says. “See you at 8.”


End file.
